


Don't Rust Your Gears

by beeberry



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Henry is a robot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:19:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeberry/pseuds/beeberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry Morgan is a robot.  He's pretty sure he's from the far future, although he's been around for a long time.  Nothing else explains his incredibly advanced mechanics which seem almost like magic.  Unfortunately, that doesn't protect him from knife wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Rust Your Gears

It was cold when Henry woke up. Eight degrees celsius in the air, but the wet stone he was lying on was a good deal colder and extremely wet. Especially seeing as he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

With a groan, Henry forced himself to move. I’ve been robbed was the first conclusion he comes to. The second was, I’ve been stabbed.

It took tremendous effort to crawl the few feet to a wall he could lean against. He was under some bridge. What had he been doing here? The mugger likely thought it was too good to be true, a well-dressed man in a spot where no one would see anything, and where he could shove the body in the river.

The sparks were likely what had scared the mugger off so that he didn’t follow through on that.

Henry looked down at the hole in his stomach, just below his right ribs. It tingled, and Henry had to force the alarm notifications to go away, he could see what was wrong, thank you. Dark liquid oozed out, meaning the coolant container had been damaged. That was wreaking hell on the motors directly below it. Blast, he would need his lab to fix this. But first he needed clothes.

Luckily, his mugger must have been homeless. Whoever he was had cast off a long trench coat nearby. Henry crawled over to it and had just picked it up when a voice echoed under the bridge.

“Somebody said they thought they saw a naked body next to the river.”

Henry yanked the coat over himself, hiding the definitely inhuman wound, before turning to look. A uniformed officer was making his way down the embankment. Henry recognized the face, but wasn’t sure of the name.

“Now I owe Nevil five dollars,” the officer accuses.

“Making bets about me now? Does it still count if this time it really isn’t my fault?” Henry asked, pulling the trench coat tighter.

“Probably not according to Nevil. Are you alright there, Dr. Morgan?” The officer reached down a hand to help Henry up, and Henry got a look at his name tag.

“Yes, fine, Rogers. Bit chilly.”

“No kidding. Come on, my cruiser’s at the curb. Technically I have to arrest you for public indecency.”

“Any way you could take me home first?” Henry asked. He twisted the coat, trying to cover himself more without revealing the wound. Officer Rogers politely turned away so that Henry could pull the coat on properly. It smelled.

“Pretty sure they’ve got your name on a set of clothes by now, Doctor,” Rogers said, starting up the embankment. “And if you really got mugged, we’ll need to put in a report. Did you get a good look at the guy?”

“Perhaps enough for a sketch,” Henry said and hid a grimace. It was hard not to look in the face of somebody stabbing you in the stomach. “I really would feel better going home first. It’s not like I’ll run away, I’m the victim here.”

Rogers turned to Henry when they reached the cruiser. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“What? No, I’m fine. Like I said, just a bit chilly.”

“You should probably get checked for a concussion. Any idea how long you were out? It was some kid that told me you were lying there. Ran straight up to me screaming.” Rogers opened the back door of the cruiser and Henry slid in reluctantly.

“No more than a few seconds. Perhaps that boy saw my attacker leave and went to see what was below the bridge. Murders are quite exciting to children.”

“If you say so,” Rogers laughed.

It took only a few minutes to get to the station, but Henry felt each second. The longer this took, the more damage he would have to fix in his leg. His coolant had dripped down to 20% and Henry watched his internal temperature start to rise. He fell quiet in the cruiser, adjusting things to conserve the coolant and render assistance to his flooded leg. At least it was the coolant and not his “liver” that had been ruptured.

He couldn’t hide the limp as they walked into the station, but it wasn’t too bad yet. Officer Day – first name presumably Nevil – passed them in the lobby and clapped Rogers on the shoulder.

“Drinks on you tonight,” he said.

Rogers laughed sarcastically and led Henry in to get clothes. Luckily Jo appeared before they had to put him in a cell.

“No need for that, Rogers,” she said and Henry’s heart soared. “Henry wasn’t sleep-walking this time.”

She had a tight grip on the arm of a man wearing Henry’s clothes.

“I thought these looked a little too familiar,” she said with a small smile. “And then this fell out of his pocket.”

She handed over Henry’s pocket watch.

Relief hit Henry and he swayed where he stood. “Thank you,” he said. It took him a moment to notice that Jo had grabbed his arm.

“Henry. Are you okay?” It didn’t sound like the first time she had asked.

“Absolutely, now, though I would rather like to go home.”

It will take even longer to repair this damage. Damn that man, he hadn’t gotten this badly hurt chasing a serial killer last month and here an everyday mugging was all set to cripple him.

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

“That would be most appreciated,” Henry said.

But once they got to Henry’s house, Jo didn’t leave.

“Are you just going to guard my bathroom?” Henry asked, a little incredulous and growing desperate. His core temperature was well above safe standards. “It’s going to take hours to wash this smell off.”

“I’m sure it will, Henry. But first, we’re taking care of that.” One hand on her hip, Jo pointed. Henry looked down to see a dark stain on his borrowed shirt.

“You’re limping,” Joe added. “You got hurt, so sit down and don’t try to lie to me. Did that guy do this to you?”

“It’s really nothing! A scrape from falling down,” Henry tried to protest, backing away. Bad idea. His leg had had enough. The gears ground to a halt and refused to move. To prove her point, Jo reached out to give the wound a good poke, expecting Henry to flinch. Instead, he collapsed.

“Henry!” Jo lunged after him and only just managed to keep him from crashing completely to the floor.

Oh, definitely not good, Henry thought just before his system reached critical status and shut down.


End file.
